The Fitness Phenomenon
by nanniships
Summary: Joe Molesley received a free one day pass to his local fitness center and everything changes. Baxley Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

Joe and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, spin class

The warmth of the gym rushed out at him as he stopped in the entryway to shake the moisture from his coat and listen anxiously to the banging and crash of the bars being loaded with even yet still more weight. A particularly loud grunt made him startle and almost turn around for a hasty exit. The two youngish women coming through the door, giggling about something, blocked his attempt to escape and he danced awkwardly from one side to the other, trying to find a way to exit gracefully around them.

The giggles intensified as he gave up and stood to one side. One flipped a cheeky smile over her shoulder at him as they proceeded into the main building. More noise and heat rushed out, ruffling his thin hair as he stood indecisively, clutching the stiff, blue voucher in one hand.

"Forward the Light Brigade….charge for the guns," he muttered under his breath as he reached a decision. With a deep breath, he shoved the second set of doors open and stepped into the welcome area. Shouts and splashes caught his attention as he stood near the desk, waiting for an opportune moment to speak to the cheerful young woman who was staffing it. He turned to watch through the large windows as a young, harried man paced along the side of the pool, watching a flailing, shouting crew of youngsters trying to do something resembling a breast stroke.

"Sir…? Sir…?"

He pulled his attention back to the young woman whose name tag read "Anna." She smiled at him.

"They're a lively bunch, aren't they?" she commented, nodding at the windows. "William has his hands full with that group." Noticing the voucher still clutched in his hand, she asked: "How can I help?"

"Um… well, I have this voucher for a one-day free trial of the facility…" he replied with a hesitant smile. "So I thought I'd come by and have a look."

"Wonderful!" she said enthusiastically. "We've got a lot of programs going on this morning. You might want to give a class a try."

"What sort of class? I thought it was just a gym…you know, with weights and treadmills and…" His eye caught a very sweaty, large man who pounded up to the water cooler and embraced it with loud gulps and gasps. "…and big, intimidating blokes who like to throw heavy things around."

Anna's peal of laughter attracted another woman who had been working on the computer behind the desk. The slender, dark haired woman glanced over for just a moment with a smile curling her lips. He caught the flash of her eyes before she looked back at the screen and wondered what color they were.

"We offer quite a bit more than _that_ , Mister….?"

"Ah…Molesley. Joe Molesley."

"Well, Mr. Molesley, we offer a wide variety of exercise, fitness and lifestyle options in our facility…"

Joe Molesley tried to look like he was paying attention, but the people bustling around and the sounds from the fitness area near the desk were very distracting. Anna watched him as his eyebrows rose alarmingly at the sudden loud exclamation of encouragement towards a man trying to bench press a disturbingly large barbell.

"Is it always so….um….busy?" he asked, drawing another quick amused look from the woman at the computer.

"This time of the day it can be. A lot of the personal trainers schedule their sessions early in the morning, before their clients have to be at work." Anna paused to acknowledge several women who breezed in through the door, arguing cheerfully about the "Strictly Come Dancing" results. "Don't forget to sign in, Beryl!" she called.

"You'd think you'd know me by now," the older woman replied with an exasperated roll of her eyes. "I'm only here every bloody day."

"Rules, Beryl," Anna replied with a grin.

Joe watched the cheeky ginger sign in, eyebrows arching as he picked up a few of her muttered phrases. Anna just smiled indulgently and thanked her.

"Um…do the, uh… _ladies_ have their own gym?" Joe asked tentatively, watching Beryl and company go through a set of swinging doors and down a corridor. The dark haired woman at the computer terminal stopped typing and turned around fully to look at him in disbelief.

 _Brown_ , he noted to himself. _Her eyes are a lovely brown._

"Not at all," Anna assured him. "Except for the changing areas, the facility is entirely co-ed. Beryl is just going back to one of the studios for a fitness class."

"Spin," the woman at the terminal added.

Joe jerked his head around to look at her in puzzlement. Her eyes sparkled and she gave him a challenging grin.

"Spin?" he asked, visions of women loading washing machines to a disco song coming to his mind.

"Phyllis teaches a spin class," Anna told him, as he continued to stare at the other woman. "It's a high energy class on stationary bikes. Very popular."

"Is it?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of the woman he now knew was called Phyllis.

"You ought to give it a try," Phyllis invited as she stood up from her chair. Her spandex crop pants clung to her hips as she bent to gather up an armload of towels.

Joe realized he was staring and quickly looked over at Anna. Clearing his throat, he handed her the blue voucher.

"Well then…spin class it is. To start."

"Wonderful! I'll see you there," Phyllis called as she moved quickly towards the swinging doors.

Anna took his voucher with a knowing look and shoved a waiver at him to sign. Joe began to follow Phyllis eagerly, then stopped and turned to Anna with a concerned expression.

"Um…when you say 'high energy'…"

"Everyone goes at their own pace," she assured him.

He nodded and hesitantly pushed his way through the swinging doors. Anna chuckled and began shifting through a drawer in the counter.

"I'll just have the membership forms ready for when he gets back," she murmured.

* * *

 _I have made a bloody…horrible…mistake._

Panting desperately, feet pushing endlessly against the toe cages on the pedals, he tried to focus on the flapping legs of his track suit, blocking out the pounding beats of the club anthem pouring out of the speakers. His efforts to surreptitiously release some of the tension he'd applied over enthusiastically at the beginning of the class had caught the eye of one of Beryl's cohorts, and the young woman kept raising a smug eyebrow at him every time his hand would creep down to the knob.

By now though, he was nearly past caring.

Phyllis' encouraging, needling voice had made him begin at a much too high level, he admitted to himself. And as the final climb of the class tore into his chest and legs, he sincerely regretted the instinct that had made him show off a bit in a class predominated by women. Mostly older women.

Annoyingly fit older women.

He was beginning to resent that Phyllis didn't even seem to be breathing hard. But he didn't mind when she'd glance over at him in the dimmed lights of the room and smile encouragingly.

No…he didn't mind that a bit.

As the music came to crashing conclusion, there were breaths of relief throughout the class. No longer caring about the opinions of the others, Joe desperately twisted the tension off and vowed to leave it there. A quick glance around showed him that he wasn't the only one.

"Excellent work, ladies and gents!" Phyllis enthused from her cycle, facing them all. her eyes swept over the class, noting who had been exerting themselves and who hadn't. Her eyebrows knit in momentary concern at Joe's deep red face and heaving chest. She could hear him wheeze from the front of the room.

"Cool down! Take your tension all the way off and slow your pedaling until your heart rate gets back down."

Joe watched in fascination as she began doing some upper body stretches on the bike. A throat cleared next to him.

"You might want to do some stretching too," the young woman who'd been watching him suggested. "It'll help slow down your breathing." Joe nodded and began pulling his arms across his chest. "You did quite well for your first time."

"Thanks," he gasped in response.

"It's quite a lot of fun, isn't it," she went on. "I come three times a week. Beryl swears by it…says it keeps her cooking."

"You're not talking about me back there I hope, Daisy!" Beryl screeched from her bike towards the front of the room.

"Who else would I be talking about?" Daisy answered smartly.

The rest of the room laughed and Joe realized that this was probably a frequent exchange. Still struggling to get his breathing under control, he noticed that folks were getting off their bikes for more stretching. After fumbling with the toe traps, he freed his trainers and swung his leg over, reaching for his water bottle at the same time.

He couldn't figure out why the water bottle kept moving away from him.

"There he goes!" someone yelled. But Joe didn't hear it.

He didn't hear anything. Not until half a bottle of water had been dumped on his face.

"You'll be fine," a new voice assured him as he blinked and sputtered. "You just went a bit too much all out for your first class."

Joe strained to focus his eyes at all the faces that were leaning over him with various expression of concern and amusement. The soothing voice had come from an older woman with a stethoscope in her ears. His heart continued to race alarmingly, but she didn't seem too worried about it.

"No…no! don't get up just yet," she ordered as he began flailing about, trying to lever himself into a sitting position."

"I'm fine…I'm fine," he muttered.

"Lie down!" Phyllis barked at him. "Dr. Crawley isn't done with you yet."

Startled, he dropped back onto the floor as Dr. Crawley wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

"Really," he replied in a strangled voice, eyes darting frantically between his arm and Phyllis' snapping, stern eyes. "Really, I'm sure I'm fine now. Just, um….just overdid it a bit. That's all."

"I'm sure that's it," the woman now identified as Dr. Crawley said, giving him a pat on the arm and continuing to listen for his pulse. "Now, please be quiet."

"But…." he began, breaking off at Phyllis' glare.

Joe lay quietly, accepting his fate as the rest of the people in the class began gathering their things. He could hear them discussing his ignominious faint as they departed, and he cringed.

"Things seem to be returning to normal," Dr. Crawley announced as she whipped off the arm cuff and smiled at Phyllis. Joe was too preoccupied with staring at the carpet to see the look of relief that passed over Phyllis' face.

"Drink plenty of water to rehydrate," Dr. Crawley ordered as she packed up her medical bag. "And you might want to see your GP about that chest congestion. You've probably got a touch of bronchitis. Now….unless there are any other emergencies, I'm back off to Zumba."

"Thanks, Isobel," Phyllis said gratefully as the doctor left.

"Yeah…thanks," Joe muttered, finally sitting up and holding his head in his hands.

The only sound in the studio was the impatient tapping of Phyllis' trainer. The movement caught his eye and he glanced warily up at her.

"What the bloody hell did you think you were playing at?" she demanded. Ignoring his wide eyed stare, she continued angrily. "Are you trying to get me sacked? Dying in my class and all?"

"What!? No…I…what?"

"Think you can bloody show a studio full of women how its done, do you?"

"No! I just…." The lie in his mouth couldn't come out in the face of Phyllis' glare.

"Never occurred to you to _ease_ into a brand new fitness activity?"

"Everything's a brand new fitness activity!" he blurted. "I haven't rode a bike since I was...I dunno...fifth form...and I just didn't know-"

"Didn't know what you doing," Phyllis finished his sentence with a sigh. "Right…."She watched him pluck at the laces of his trainers and stare unseeingly at the carpet. "Well, I apologize, Joe."

"What? What for?" he asked, bringing his eyes up to hers.

"I should have been more attentive, as it was your first time in Spin. Most people just go ahead and release the tension when they realize they've got it too high. I should have known you didn't know what to do with the bike."

"Oh I figured it out," he hastened to assure her. "It's not difficult. I just didn't want to back off..." He trailed off as a disgruntled expression settled on her face. "Um...I mean...I just didn't want to look like… I mean-"

"I think I know what you mean," she snapped.

"I was being a prat."

"Yes, you were."

"I'm, um, sorry about that. It won't get you in trouble will it?" he said with alarm. "I'll gladly sign a waiver, or something. It wasn't your fault."

"It'll be fine, Joe," she replied, a slight grin tugging the corners of her mouth. "You already did sign a waiver."

Joe blinked at her for a second, then wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"That's right...I did," he muttered, remembering that he'd been too busy watching Phyllis in her spandex to actually read the damn thing. "Then why did you say...?"

"You needed a good bollocking," she informed him sternly.

He gaped at her, then grinned at her severe expression as she stood over him in her bike pants and tight shirt.

 _She could dress me down any day if she wanted!_

"I won't do it again," he promised.

"See that you don't," she ordered, smiling back at him.

Joe watched her putter around, straightening the bikes, and gathered his track suit jacket from near the wall where he'd pitched it five minutes into the session. He opened his mouth to say something...anything...that would keep her chatting with him. But after coming up with exactly nothing to say, he closed his mouth and quietly slipped out of the room.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Molesley!" Anna called as he tried to sidle out of the doors unnoticed. "How was class?"

He winced and tried to look like a man who hadn't passed out as soon as he'd gotten off his cycle.

"It was...challenging," he mumbled.

"I hope you enjoyed it," Anna replied. "Like I said, we have a large variety of fitness and life style classes." She waved a packet of papers at him. "If you'll be considering a membership, I have some forms and an informative packet for you."

"Ah...well...I don't know, really..." he stammered, shrinking back from the packet Anna was holding out like it was a live cobra. "It may not be for me..."

"Well, think about it," Anna encouraged.

Joe responded with a weak nod and began to creep towards the doors again, thanking his lucky stars that he didn't see anyone from the class hanging about the welcome area.

"I hope to see you in class again sometime, Joe," Phyllis' voice called, bringing him up short. He turned around to see her moving behind the counter with an armload of used towels. A very large bloke stepped in front of her and impeded her movement towards the hamper. "Get off, Pete," she scolded.

"Am I in your way?' he replied in teasing voice, snatching the towels from her arms and heaving them towards the hamper.

"Daft bugger," she growled with a smile, bending to pick them up. This was apparently what the big bloke wanted, as he allowed his eyes to roam appreciatively over her. He caught sight of Joe standing near the doors with a thoroughly disgruntled expression.

"Say...are you the guy who _passed out_ this morning?" he bellowed cheerfully. Every eye in the desk area turned to look at them curiously. "You need some basic fitness training, son."

"Leave off," Phyllis ordered with an eyeroll and a little shove at the man's arm. He grabbed her and pulled her to him while continuing to yell across the room at Joe. Joe's disgruntled expression grew stormier.

"Name's Pete Coyle," he informed Joe. "I'm a personal trainer, and I can fit you right up, mate." He leaned over to nip at a squirming, protesting Phyllis' neck. "Phyl can vouch for my results... all sorts of results!"

Joe's stomach burned as he watched him manhandle Phyllis. She didn't seem to object too strongly. Vomiting began to seem like a distinct possibility.

"Take it away from the front desk," Anna muttered irritably at them.

Peter grinned and obligingly began to haul Phyllis away, throwing a last comment over his shoulder at Joe:

"I'm the best in this bloody gym! Give me a call and I'll set you up with a free session!"

A free fitness training session with Peter Coyle was slightly south of a full body flaying on his list of things to achieve. He glared after them until he noticed Anna glance at him with sympathy.

"He's a bit of a loud mouth, but he does get results," she admitted. "We have other trainers though, if you're interested in one on one."

"No...I don't think...I, um, rather doubt this sort of thing is for me," he muttered. Turning away, he noticed Pete had corralled Phyllis by the door to the pool area, and she was arguing with him.

"...nancy boy couldn't pull a skin off a pudding," Pete said loud enough for Joe to hear.

"You're being an ass," she snapped. "He made it through the whole class. Everyone starts somewhere."

Joe reached for the door handles, then stopped. He turned with a determined scowl and marched back to the desk.

"I'll take a packet," he informed a confused Anna firmly.

Tucking the bundle of paperwork under his arm, he threw one last poisonous glare at Pete Coyle and strode out of the building.

"He'll be back," Anna said quietly to herself, looking from Joe's exit to where Phyllis was about to enter the pool area to lead water aerobics. "Probably tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

The Little Joe that Could

Even after six months of regular attendance at the Rec Center, the shrieks of delighted damp children echoing around the cavernous pool enclosure still made him startle when he leaned against the front desk to sign in.

"Morning, Joe!" Anna called cheerfully. As she pecked away at a computer keyboard, his eye was caught by an unfamiliar flash on her hand.

"What's that, then?" he asked with a grin.

"You mean this?" she replied with a huge smile, holding up her left hand and displaying a tasteful diamond on her ring finger.

"Yes... _that_. Finally worked himself up to it?" Joe immediately looked over to the manager's office. "Where is John? He's usually hovering over you like a mama hen."

Anna rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to disagree when the man in question came through the doors leading to the changing rooms corridor, grappling with a large poster board sign. Joe stepped over to offer a hand.

"I...don't...hover," John Bates muttered at him as he limped over to a display easel next to the front desk. "I observe. Thoroughly."

Joe snickered as he helped straighten the sign and reached out to grasp John's hand in congratulations. The man's usually stoic face beamed, and Joe had to swallow hard to clamp down on a frisson of jealousy for the couple's clear happiness.

"That might fly if you'd ever _thoroughly observed_ anyone at the front desk but Anna."

John didn't deny it, and after a hearty slap on Joe's shoulder, that moved him a few inches to the left, he made a beeline to the counter and leaned across it. Joe watched them whisper for a moment, then sighed and glanced at the sign he'd help place.

"Thirty Day Triathalon? Sounds almost like my speed." He perused the details and began trying to calculate just how far he might already be going per week on the cycles and the treadmill. A particularly loud splash from the pool reminded him of the two mile swim requirement and his face fell.

"Going to give it go?"

Joe jerked his head around and smiled nervously at Phyllis as she stood behind him, reading over his shoulder.

"I might," he replied vaguely. _Around half past never._ "I'm almost already there with the cycling in spin class, and I could step up the treadmill work...so to speak."

Phyllis snickered and patted his shoulder.

"You could do it, Joe," she encouraged. "You've come a long way in six months."

"Haven't passed out in ages, you mean."

The welcome area began to fill up as several classes ended and parents wandered in to pick up their kids from swim lessons. Several people stopped to read the sign, including Beryl and company, straight out of yoga class.

"You can go teams!" she declared in a loud, brash voice. "Get us signed up, Daisy!"

"Why do you even bother with that yoga class? Nothing _ever_ relaxes you," Daisy replied. "I'd like to see you in a bathing suit. Wouldn't _that_ be a treat..."

"I'm not getting in any bikinis, my girl!" Beryl brayed, attracting the amused attention of everyone around the front desk. "That's what _teams_ are for. Someone else wears the bikini and does the swim." She looked around quickly and her eyes fell on Joe. "How about you, Joe?"

"I'm not wearing a bikini either, Beryl," he protested. Everyone eavesdropping burst into laughter.

"For which we are all profoundly grateful," she snipped. "But you could team with us."

Joe began to back away from Beryl's penetrating glare, wincing as he trod on Phyllis' toes.

"I was thinking of giving it a go on my own," he stammered.

"You'd have better luck with the ladies," sneered Peter Coyle, who had been leaning against the front desk and giving them vaguely contemptuous looks. He wandered over through the crowd, which parted reluctantly, and stood behind Phyllis, grabbing her shoulders possessively. "Thirty days for a Triathlon? Rubbish. You'll never get fit that way, son. When are you gonna get with a real trainer?"

 _Fucking never, you corn fed wanker._

"Still working my way up to that," Joe muttered, glaring absently at Coyle's freakishly thick neck. He could feel his own neck getting red as he watched Phyllis try to squirm out from under Coyle's grip, only to have him clamp down harder.

"Not everyone wants to train at that level, Pete," Phyllis said, with a sympathetic glance at Joe.

"They do if they ever want to be something other than a skinny git," Coyle said as he looked at his watch, "or man up for something more challenging than bloody stupid Thirty Day Triathalons."

With that, Coyle pretended to bite the back of Phyllis' neck and headed for the gym. Joe ignored his exuberant greetings to his client, instead watching Phyllis scowl and shake her head. He offered her a shaky smile when she looked over at him.

"Ignore him, Joe. The Thirty Day is a good fitness goal for you. Pete's just always trying to scare up more clients."

"I don't know..." he said doubtfully, staring at the two mile swim requirement.

"Well, I do," she said firmly. "Go sign up and have some fun with it."

She stared at him with a challenging smile until he shrugged and smiled back. She watched him approvingly as he made his way to the front desk to sign up on the clipboard, placing his signature under "Cook Beryl's Spice Girls" with a flourish.

The crowd thinned out as people went off to classes or left for home. Joe headed towards the bank of treadmills and steppers, then stopped and looked back at the clipboard on the front desk, chewing his lower lip.

"What's up, Joe?' Phyllis asked as she grabbed her tracksuit jacket and prepared to go lead a Zumba class, making him jump.

"I, um, might have forgotten a little detail when I signed-up," he said in a low voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

"What's that?"

"Well, I..uh, I never...um..." He looked over at her sheepishly. "I can't swim. I don't know how I'm going to do two miles in the water."

She gaped at him for a moment, then broke into a grin.

"Easily mended," she proclaimed, grabbing his elbow and pulling him over to the large window looking into the pool. She rapped on it until William looked over, gesturing to him to come over. He threw a thumbs-up at her as he lifted two squabbling second formers out of the shallow end.

"What's up," William asked cheerfully when he came through into the welcome area, scrubbing his hair vigorously with a towel.

"Got any private lesson openings?" she asked, as Joe stood next to her, eyes wide in trepidation when William grinned and nodded.

"How about next week?"

* * *

Phyllis jerked her head up in exasperation when the drop of water hit her keyboard. Glaring at a disgruntled William, she gently wiped it off.

"He wasn't lying," William informed her.

"What?" She grimaced as another drop splashed onto the counter in front of her. "Get a bloody towel, William!"

"He can't swim."

"Who...Joe?"

"Yeah...Joe. Nice bloke, but he sinks."

"Sinks?"

"Right to the bottom of the bloody pool every single time. No buoyancy," William explained, illustrating by slamming his hand down on the counter. "I can't get him to relax for a second and I might have strained myself the last time I hauled him up when he started bubbling."

"You can teach a three year old to backstroke across the whole pool, but you can't teach a full grown man to paddle?"

"I'm a swim instructor, not bloody Jesus walking on the water," he snapped.

The rasp of a cough from lungs that had sampled just a bit too much chlorine interrupted them. They both turned guiltily to see Joe standing behind them, dripping wet, and flushed with embarrassment. Phyllis watched the water run down his chest, noticing the definition he'd achieved in six months of dedicated fitness training, before trying to look into eyes that were looking anywhere but at her.

"Sorry, William," he choked out between coughs. "I'm just rubbish in the water, I guess."

"No worries, mate," William replied reassuringly. "Just stay away from the pool, and you'll be fine."

Phyllis snorted angrily and shoved William's arm.

"What kind of advice is that? The man is going to do a Triathalon!"

"The man is _not_ going to do a Triathalon," Joe grumbled miserably. "Where's that clipboard sign-up?"

Phyllis surreptitiously swept the clipboard underneath the counter and pretended to look for it. William watched them both in confusion before shrugging and inching off.

"Can't seem to find it, Joe," Phyllis lied. At his deep, irritated sigh, the corner of her mouth twitched up. "But how about if I give it a go? With the swimming?" Joe looked slightly panicked at the thought. "I promise I won't let you drown."

"Yeah...but I can't promise I won't let you down. I can't seem to get the hang of it," he replied dismally.

Anna, who had been ensconced in John's office for close to an hour, wandered back out into the front and looked at them curiously while she gathered up a pile of forms.

"Don't you have Pilates?" she asked Phyllis, pointedly looking at the clock.

"Oh shit! Sorry...I do. Must dash, Joe. How about I call you and set up a private lesson, alright?" Ignoring Joe's gobsmacked look, she plowed around the desk and hurried through the doors.

"Private lesson?" Anna asked with a smirk.

"Yeah...swimming. I really don't know what just happened here," Joe admitted.

"Well...I really don't know what happened either, but I do know you're leaving puddles all over the Welcome Area."

Anna's smirk widened as Joe sputtered, apologized and disappeared towards the changing rooms.

 _I can make a few guesses about what's happening here…_

* * *

Joe winced and twitched as Phyllis placed her hands under his back and encouraged him to lift his feet from the pool bottom. Every time she touched him on his bare skin, he jumped a mile. And every time he glanced at her in her lovely, wet, one-piece suit, he attempted to put more space between them.

"Joe," Phyllis ground out between her teeth. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you. You _have_ to relax a bit."

Joe gamely lifted one foot from the pool bottom, froze when Phyllis put gentle pressure on his back, and put it back down again with a flail of his arms. Phyllis wiped water from her face and gestured for him to stand up.

He would have apologized for the three hundredth time, but he remembered her semi-serious threat to stick a water wing in his gob if he did it again. Instead he just kept his eyes on the surface of the water and shook his head.

Phyllis sighed and gestured to the pool side. "Have a seat, Joe."

He levered himself out of the pool and sat, dangling his feet in the water as Phyllis gazed at him searchingly.

"Alright, Joe...you seem to have some trouble relaxing in the water." At his fervent nod, she grinned. "Lots of folks do, so we're going to try some relaxation techniques before you get in."

Joe looked dubious, but shrugged and sighed. "I'll give it a go, if you think it will help."

"Good." Phyllis hopped nimbly up onto the side of the pool next to him. "Now...close your eyes and think of something you really, really like."

"You mean, like my favorite food...or something?" he asked, feeling like the world's biggest git.

"If that's what you really like, fine. But _don't_ tell me what it is. Just nod when you're there and hold onto it.."

Joe obediently closed his eyes, but couldn't banish the picture of Phyllis sitting inches away from him at the side of the pool, watching his face as it twisted in thought.

"Don't make this so serious, Joe," she murmured. "You're trying too hard. Just let yourself think of something you like more than anything else in the world."

 _You in that suit...you in anything….watching you work harder than anyone else in your classes...the way you smile and encourage everyone...how it looks like you love your job and love being here...until that useless godzilla of a fucking bully you're seeing shows up and sucks all the joy out of your face…_

"You're frowning, Joe. Go back to the happy."

 _Shit...um, the way you pull your hair back and how your, um, your breasts lift in those tight shirts..._ _uh,_ _better not go there in my swim trunks...the way you're patient and all with me, like you care about me...and the way you smile at me sometimes...like you might care about me like I care about you..._ _just being closer to you..._

Joe nodded and smiled at that last thought, tipping his head back and keeping his eyes closed. Phyllis gently touched his arm.

"Keep your eyes closed and those thoughts in your head, Joe. Ease into the pool and let me lead you away from the side."

Together, they splashed into the pool, Phyllis holding Joe's hands, and walked slowly into the water. Saying nothing, Phyllis halted him when the water was almost to his chest and placed one hand in the small of his back. Gently, she bent him backwards towards the water, suppressing a shout when both of his feet came up.

Joe floated for a few seconds before his eyes snapped open and a look of panic crossed his face. Phyllis pressed her hands a little more firmly under his back as he began to lose bouyancy.

"You're doing great, Joe. Breath slowly and let your body just lay on the surface of the water."

The breath rattled in his chest, making Phyllis speculate that he might have some anxiety induced asthma, and his adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. But he closed his eyes and noticed for the first time that her hair was coming a bit lose in the water and a lock of it was brushing ticklishly across his forehead. He was so preoccupied by it that when it pulled away, he was concentrating on his disappointment rather than the fact that she had slipped to one side and was no longer supporting his back as he floated.

"Well done, you!" Phyllis shouted. "You've got it!"

Joe startled and flailed until he was upright. Several other clients in the pool area clapped for him, but as he snorted water out of his sinuses, all he could see was the proud and happy look on Phyllis' face.

"I really did that?' he asked in disbelief.

"You absolutely did that, Joe," Phyllis said, giving him a brief spontaneous hug. "And now, you're going to do it again and again until we can work you up to basic strokes and you can go back and forth across the pool."

Joe felt a huge grin spread across his face and knew at that moment that he'd swim the bloody Channel in a gorilla suit if she said he should.

Twice. He'd swim it twice.

* * *

"He'll never be a David Wilkie," Phyllis informed William a few weeks later in the corridor outside of the changing rooms, "but he can make it back and forth across the pool."

"Really?! Maybe _you_ ought to take on the swim lessons," William suggested good naturedly.

"I don't think so," Phyllis replied with a snort. "One adult male pushed my patience to the breaking point. I couldn't deal with 15 second formers for any amount of money or fame."

William's smirk faded as he looked over Phyllis' shoulder. Phyllis tensed as Peter Coyle's huge hands engulfed her shoulders and squeezed almost painfully.

"Branching out, Phyl?" he sneered. "Taking on the problem children?"

"Not really, Pete. Just the one person who needed a couple of lessons," she answered, hating that her voice sounded so apologetic. William muttered something and backed away with a perturbed expression.

"Yeah? One adult male, was it?" Coyle swung her around to glare into her face. "Let me guess...would it be that weak ass wanker you've got a soft spot for in your spin class?"

"Pete-"

"You're wasting your time with that one, love," he informed her, cupping her face firmly with his hand. "He'll dry up and blow away. No staying power...no guts...and no chance with you. Am I right?"

"You're imagining things, Pete. Joe is just a client..."

"Phyllis!" Joe's voice rang out as he burst through the male changing room door, thin wet hair flying in all directions. "I did ten laps just now-"

Coyle and Phyllis turned towards him, Phyllis pulling away from his grip.

"Ten whole laps!" Coyle exclaimed mockingly. "Ooohh...at that rate, you'll do two miles in about six months."

"Well done, Joe!" Phyllis said, giving Coyle a side eye glare. "That's progress."

"I'll get to two miles eventually," Joe said in a quiet, firm voice, not dropping his eyes from Coyle's contemptuous gaze.

"In your dreams," Coyle replied. "Now I could get you there a lot faster, mate. Why not sign up for a training session? We'll target a few of your weak areas. On second thoughts….better sign for a lot more than one session."

"I'll consider it," Joe replied calmly. "My upper body could probably use some focused training."

Coyle's smile was not one of a trainer anxious to secure a client. Joe shivered with the urge to slink away. Phyllis' continued glare at Coyle fortified him.

"That'll be aces," Coyle said, turning away from Joe in dismissal. "You shouldn't really encourage him in this fitness program shite," he said to Phyllis in a lowered voice that still carried perfectly well. "He'll just crawl away and quit when he fails."

"He's not going to fail," she hissed.

Coyle shrugged and sauntered away, loudly proclaiming that he had a real client waiting. Phyllis turned to look at Joe with an apology in her eyes.

"Are you really considering Pete as a personal trainer?" she asked with a touch of distress. She could feel the tension leaving her shoulders at Joe's bark of laughter.

"No fucking way," he replied. "But it got him to piss off, didn't it?"

"You may want a personal trainer someday, Joe, but I don't think Pete would be a good match for you."

"I don't think he's a good match for anyone, Phyllis," he replied, looking her in the eye.

Phyllis dropped her eyes to the floor and shrugged.

"He gets results."

"At what cost?"

She slowly lifted her eyes back up to his face, then look away again at the concern in his. Concern...and something else. They stood in silence for an awkward moment.

"Well...I better get to the machines," Joe finally said with a sad little smile. "I wasn't lying about my upper body. Ten laps took it out of me."

Phyllis smiled back and reached out to squeeze his bicep, resisting the sudden urge to smooth his hair down.

"Concentrate on your abs and pecs," she advised. "They'll do a lot of the effort in the water."

"Thanks. For the advice," Joe said as he turned to leave. Stopping a few steps away, he turned back around. "And for the support."

"You'll prove him wrong, Joe. I know you will."

* * *

Joe grunted as his abs burned in protest of his more vigorous than usual workout. He had most definitely overdone it, but every time the weights on the machine clanged together, he pictured Coyle's bloody fat head between them and was inspired to do another set of reps.

No sooner did the grim smile creep across his face at the thought, than the very thick and bulgy bastard of his daydream pushed noisily into the changing room, followed by his latest client, who was complaining about the amount of work involved in getting ripped. Joe had to grin when Coyle rolled his eyes up to the bank of fluorescents as if beseeching heaven to shut the man up.

"Look," Coyle interrupted the bloke in mid stream. "It takes some time and effort, yeah. But there's ways to help it along."

Joe felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up as Coyle looked around the nearly empty changing room and jerked his client a little closer. His eyes fell on Joe, who busied himself with his belt and tried to look invisible, and dismissed him as unimportant.

"Like what," the man demanded. He didn't seem to be in poor conditioning to Joe.

"Like...this," Coyle said in an attempt at a whisper. He fiddled with his locker and fished a bottle out of it. "This is the stuff, mate."

"Is that legal?" the man asked with sudden interest.

"Course it is, man. You can buy it at any garden variety supplement store. Now me," he said smugly, "I get mine mail order. More pure that way, and I can buy bulk. If you want to give it a try, I'll hook you up."

"You sure it's legal, though?" the man persisted. "I've read that this is banned in sport competition-"

"Is this sport competition, or personal training?" Coyle snapped. "Look, mate. It'll increase your stamina and help you bulk up a bit. That's all." His client hemmed inconclusively.

Joe stood with his back to them, still clutching his belt in his trembling hands as he listened to what was, essentially, a drug deal going on twenty feet away from him. As soon as Coyle offered to procure steroids for his client without a license to sell them, it became a matter of a possible 14 year prison sentence.

 _Pete gets results, does he? He may not like those results very much, when all is said and done._

When his client declined to commit to a steroid regimen at this time, Coyle went on to discuss the training schedule and both men buried their heads in their diaries. Joe took the opportunity to slip out of the changing room and nearly ran back out to the front desk where Gwen was keeping an eye on the comings and goings.

"What's with you, Joe?" she asked as he leaned heavily on the counter. "You look like you've been goosed by a ghost."

Joe chuckled weakly and glanced nervously over his shoulder at the doors leading to the corridor.

"Just overdid the workout today, I guess," he replied. "Um...is Phyllis about?"

"She just left," Gwen said with a little grin. "You can leave her a message in her box, if you'd like."

Joe looked at the open mail cubbies and bit his lip in thought. Then he looked at the empty office.

"Actually...could I use the computer for a minute, Gwen? And the printer…?"


	3. Chapter 3

Gruffalo Joe

Joe Molesley hated the suspense.

It had been over three weeks since he'd dropped a bomb into a locker, and so far...nothing. As he was sat in his car in the car park, gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white, he wondered if, perhaps, he'd overestimated the sense and egos of Peter Coyle's personal training clients. Or maybe it simply didn't matter to anyone that a personal trainer, contracted to the facility, not only used steroids, but recommended them and offered to procure them to his clients.

Maybe no one cared that a roid raging meat-headed bully was threatening the safety of the other employees and, more than likely, his clients. Maybe it was the sort of thing they winked and nodded at. After all...Pete gets results.

He'd lit the blue touch paper and so far it had fizzled.

"Metaphor for my whole bloody life," he muttered, prying his fingers from the wheel and grabbing his gym bag. He was halfway across the lot before he registered someone calling his name.

"Joe…..Joe! Have you gone off deaf, or something?"

Plastering on a grin he didn't feel, he turned to see Beryl, walking stridently towards him.

"I must've been woolgathering a bit," he said apologetically. "What's up?"

"I was hoping you'd know," she replied. "Several classes have been canceled – just got the text."

"Spin?" he asked warily.

"That's one of them," she said with a knowing smirk. "Also Yoga and Zumba. What am I supposed to do with myself this morning?"

For a horrifying moment, Joe thought she might be hinting that he should offer to take her out for a coffee. He glanced at her expression and was relieved that she was disgruntled and not the least bit flirty. On the other hand, a disgruntled Beryl was a formidable thing. His sympathies for Anna behind the counter were already rising.

"If they're going to just out and out bloody _cancel_ , they ought to tell us the night before," Beryl continued to grumble as they made their way towards the entrance. "I'll get to the bottom of this, you can be sure of that."

Joe rushed forward to open the door for her, wincing as he tried to block out her grumbling mutterings of dire consequences. As she swept through like a battleship parting the waves as it sailed into battle, Joe glanced over her head to see a very silent, very empty welcome area. Even the pool was silent and empty of small, damp, shrieking children.

The hissing of a fuse suddenly became louder in his mind, and he swallowed hard before following Beryl as she surged up to the front desk where a solemn, concerned Anna spoke quietly to a few curious clients. The office lights were on but the door was shut tight, and no other staff members were around.

Beryl lost her head of steam when she noticed the atmosphere and quietly asked Anna what was going on. Joe pushed in next to Beryl, listening to the rising tone of the voices behind the office door.

"I'm not really sure, Beryl," Anna answered, looking nervously in the direction of the office. "All I know is there is a meeting for all the trainers and class leaders and all classes are canceled. The gym is open, if you want to use the treadmills or the machines."

"I'll be a wreck without yoga," Beryl complained. "Imagine me unable to relax."

Anna very admirably kept a straight face as several of Beryl's friends, who'd arrived for their usual classes, gathered around and commiserated with her. Everyone ignored Joe for the most part, which allowed him to concentrate on the voices in the office. There were, without a doubt, some very angry people in there.

In spite of his efforts, Joe was as surprised as anyone when the door to the office was flung open hard enough to crack the glass window in the door and a slew of angry voices roared out into the front desk and welcome area. Everyone jumped and turned to stare as Peter Coyle, furious almost beyond recognition, stalked out of the office screaming over his shoulder:

"I'll have someone's balls for breakfast! You can't sack me, you fucking pricks! I've done nothing wrong!"

John, his face like stone, and another man Joe didn't recognize, followed him out.

"I've called the police," John informed the room at large. "Mr. Coyle is barred from the facility."

"Call the bloody police, you crippled wanker! See if I give a toss! It's perfectly _legal!_ "

Anna's face was pale as Coyle stepped as close to John as he could get without touching him. Joe watched it all with his head swiveling back and forth frantically. He caught a glimpse inside the office where the other staff members stood about in varying degrees of shock. Phyllis leaned against a wall, looking as if she was about to throw up.

"Out," John said quietly to Coyle. "Or you'll be adding to your list of charges. Don't touch a bloody thing or person as you go either."

Coyle's hands twitched into fists and his arms trembled. Joe gripped the counter and prepared to fling his leg up to go over it. However, John was joined immediately by the unfamiliar bloke and several other staff members unfroze and began pouring out of the office. Anna picked up a keyboard from the counter and held it as if it were a cricket bat.

It was clear enough that Coyle was outnumbered. But it wasn't certain that he'd recognize that through his rage. There was an audible release of held breaths when Coyle abruptly stepped back two paces and sneered at the people arrayed in opposition.

"You'll be hearing from me," he threatened, letting his eyes land on everyone. They lingered on Phyllis, who refused to look at him.

"You ain't staying here are you, Phyl?" he snapped. "They'll be sacking you next."

"I'm sure as hell not going with you," she snapped back, "and you bloody well know why!"

"You'll be fucking sorry, bitch," he snarled, giving her one, last poisonous glare.

Joe prayed that Phyllis wouldn't say another word as Coyle slowly sauntered around the desk and made his way towards the doors. The small crowd gave him a wide berth. Joe stood next to the desk and watched him stroll out the door.

Low mutters broke out immediately. John had a quiet word with the unfamiliar bloke, who stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm Robert Crawley, one of the owners of the facility, and I apologize deeply for the unpleasantness you've had to witness this morning-"

"Unpleasantness? Is that what he's calling it?" Beryl said loudly. Mr. Crawley glanced at her in confusion at being interrupted.

"Well, perhaps it was a bit more than unpleasant," he acknowledged. "As you can see, we've had a staff dispute and had to let one of our trainers go for violation of his contract and-" John frantically gripped his arm and hissed something into his ear. Mr. Crawley nodded, looking a bit annoyed.

"At any rate, things should be under control shortly, classes will resume, and there are, of course, other trainers available to take on Mr. Coyle's clients. Again, I apologize and I assure you that this was an isolated incident and we have full confidence in our staff and our programming."

Joe listened with some amusement as John did his best to ensure that Mr. Crawley wasn't violating employee confidentiality and possibly jeopardizing a criminal investigation. The crowd murmured and looked less than reassured.

"Well," Beryl suddenly said with a loud cackle, "that was a bloody sight more exciting than yoga!"

There was laughter and the crowd began to disperse. Most headed for the door to leave, as classes hadn't been reinstated yet. Some wandered towards the gym equipment, looking a bit baffled as they face an array of mostly unfamiliar objects. The trainers that were present, still looking a bit shell shocked, followed after them to make sure no one did themselves an injury.

Joe continued to watch and listen as the staff began talking among themselves, mostly indiscreetly. John and Mr. Crawley had their heads together, and it was with a resigned expression that John beckoned Phyllis over to them.

"Joe, if you lean over the counter any further, you'll flip," Anna informed him irritably.

"This doesn't look good," he muttered, ignoring Anna as he watched John and Mr. Crawley speaking to Phyllis in low voices.

" _Suspended?_ What for?!" Phyllis exclaimed.

"We just need to get to the bottom of a few things, Ms. Baxter," Mr. Crawley said firmly. "It'll be temporary until we can have a board meeting-"

Joe had heard enough. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to rush around the counter rather than lunge over it, saving him from looking like a completely deranged prat. As it was, when he hustled over to the group, he was treated to very wary, confused expressions from all concerned.

"Don't say anything, Phyllis," he ordered. "Not until you've consulted with your solicitor." All three of them gaped at him, then spoke at once.

"Sir, I really don't think-"

"Joe, what are you-"

"Solicitor? What solicitor? I don't have a solicitor!"

"Just don't say anything, please," he pleaded, stepping between Phyllis and the two men. She watched in puzzlement as he scrambled frantically in the outside pocket of his gym bag searching until he finally drew out a business card holder. Breathing a sigh of relief that he happened to have a few, he fished one out and thrust it at Phyllis who took it unthinkingly. Making little shooing motions with his hands, Joe tried to get Phyllis to move away from the men.

"Sir! I don't know who you are, but this is a matter for the facility and none of your concern," Mr. Crawley snapped.

Without skipping a beat, Joe tossed another card in Mr. Crawley's direction. He and John glanced at it, then looked up at Joe in surprise.

"What's going on, Joe?" Phyllis demanded, holding the card between her fingers.

"Can we go get a coffee or something?" he asked. "We really need to talk."

Phyllis stared at him a moment, then glanced at the card. Under the heading **Branson, Branson and Molesley** his name was printed in simple font: _Joseph A. Molesley, Esq.,_ _Solicitor_ _and Specialist_ _at_ _Employment Law_.

"Bloody hell," Mr. Crawley muttered under his breath. "This is turning into a nightmare."

"Alright," Phyllis said slowly, glancing between Joe's pleading eyes, Mr. Crawley's scowl and John's slight smirk. "Let's go get a coffee..."

* * *

Phyllis stared at the steaming cup Joe placed carefully in front of her with unseeing eyes. Wrapping trembling hands around the warmth, she looked into his anxious face like she'd never seen it before.

"How did everything get to be such a bloody _mess_?" she moaned.

"Um...well..." Joe began, a flush spreading up his neck and onto his cheekbones. "It's actually, sort of..." At her bemused expression, he sighed and looked down at the table, biting his lip.

"Look..." he continued, "please don't get right up and leave, alright? Hear me out?" At her nod, he took a deep breath. "Actually, this whole...blowing up thing is probably my fault. I didn't expect _this_ though..."

"What are you talking about, Joe?"

"I'm the reason Coyle got sacked."

"I don't think so," she disagreed. "Apparently, the bastard has been abusing steroids. His clients complained he was pushing them."

"Yeah...well, I sort of...overheard him and a client talking about steroids, and he straight up offered to procure them-"

" _You_ told Mr. Crawley this?" she asked incredulously.

"No...an overheard conversation is practically hearsay. Instead I, um..."

"Yeah?"

"I borrowed the computer and printer in the office immediately after I heard it and I went to the NHS website and downloaded and printed everything on there about steroids and the health hazards of them. It made for disturbing reading, I can tell you."

"What did you do with it?"

"I snuck back into the locker room and stuffed it through the vents of his newest client's locker."

He took a moment to glance at her and didn't know quite what to make of her stunned expression. Clearing his throat, he took a quick sip of his coffee before continuing.

"I was hoping his client would read it and get upset that his trainer had offered them like they were nothing but pharmetcol. Then he'd complain, and maybe talk to some of the other clients. Nothing happen for over three bloody weeks, so I assumed it hadn't worked. And then..."

"And then the shit the fan and scattered it all over me," she said hollowly. "Suppose that's what I get."

"I never meant for that to happen, Phyllis. Please believe me!"

"Course you didn't, Joe," she replied with an unamused laugh. "You're so bloody clever. Probably didn't consider me at all in this."

"You're all I considered," he blurted

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. Joe put his forehead in his hands and began rubbing his temples. Their coffees steamed in front of them, forgotten.

"Phyllis," he said quietly after a long silence, "I really thought Coyle was dangerous – to his clients and his...his co-workers. He seemed so out of control."

"You're not wrong there," she replied. "He's been getting worse the last four or five months. And now I know why." She swallowed hard and looked out the window next to their table. "And he's going to take me down with him."

"No, he's not," Joe said firmly. "I'm going to make damn sure he doesn't."

"How, Joe? Are you going to wave your little card at the Board and they'll beg me to come back?"

"You'd be surprised how often that does happen," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "I'll be more than happy to represent you. If you haven't violated your contract, they can't sack you without consequences." He leaned forward suddenly to look her in the eye. "I'll make bloody sure there are consequences if they try. It's the least I can do, if you'll trust me in this."

Phyllis stared at him as he looked seriously back at her. Then her mouth quirked up in a little smile.

"Don't suppose I have a choice, do I," she replied. "But I can't afford-"

" _Pro bono_. Won't cost you a cent."

"Why?"

"Because this shouldn't have happened to you. It's not right and its my fault. I can fix it, if you'll let me."

"Alright," she agreed. "And I will pay you back, eventually."

Joe just waved his hand and smiled shyly at her. Digging into his gym bag, he pulled out a yellow, legal tablet and laid it on the table.

"You just happen to have that in your bag?" she asked with a smile.

"I was going to go to work straight after my...oh shit!" His face showed panic for a moment and he fumbled a cell phone out of his pocket. "I'm sorry...let me call in to the office..."

Phyllis just shook her head and watched him expound vague statements about his whereabouts and activities to whomever was on the line. Amazed at his ability to provide a perfectly believable excuse without actually providing pertinent details, she began to think for a moment that her situation wasn't entirely hopeless.

And Joe was impressing her more every minute.

"Alright," he began after ringing off, "I don't suppose you have a copy of your contract with you?"

"Of course not," she replied with a chuckle. "Do you cary your contract around with you?"

"Well, as I'm a partner in the firm, my contract weighs about ten pounds, so its kept in the files. But I do have a copy at home as well." He looked at her hopefully. "Would you happen to have yours at home?"

"I think so," she replied, knitting her brow in thought and noticing how his eyes softened as he watched her. "Should we go get it?"

"If that would be alright. Can I ask you a few questions before we go?" Before she could answer, he went on: "They might be sort of personal."

"I suppose," she replied with a bemused shrug.

Joe coughed and stared down at his tablet, clicking his pen and gathering his courage.

"What was the exact nature of your relationship with Peter Coyle?"

"We'd been going out for almost a year. And yes, before you ask, we were sleeping together."

"Were you living together?" he asked in a choked voice.

"No," she replied thoughtfully. "We hadn't got there. Of course, he was in and out of my flat so damn much, I wondered if he only kept his for show. Never did the dishes either, fecking arsehole..."

"Did he leave items over at your house?" at her curious look, he elaborated: "Toiletries, medicines, clothes...that sort of thing?"

"A few-mostly things he wanted washed. And bottles and bottles of that horrible aftershave."

"Did you ever see anything that made you suspect he was using steroids? Bottles or supplements in his bag or pockets?"

"No, I never looked," she said quietly, then pounded her forehead with her fist. "God, I can't believe I didn't see it. All the bloody signs were there."

"But you _didn't_ see it," he replied, "and that's going to be very important."

"Why? Why does the fact that I was too stupid or cowed to see what was right in front of me help?"

"If its a connection between you and Coyle the Board is looking at, it will be to ascertain if you knew about his steroid use and dealing, and if you participated in it."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"And if its clear you didn't, then there really can't be grounds for sacking you, unless there is moral turpitude clause in your contract that prohibits relationships between staff members."

"Hah! In which case, John and Anna can join me at the bloody Job Center."

"Right...not very likely. Once I get a peek at your contract, I'll go over any possible issues with you, but I think its going to be simple- we maintain that you didn't know."

Phyllis stared at him thoughtfully and drummed her fingers on the table. Joe watched them with fascination, wishing he could reach over and take her hands in his.

"What if they don't believe me?" she asked quietly.

"Phyllis, when Coyle demanded you leave with him and you didn't, what did you mean by saying he'd know why?"

"We broke up two weeks ago," she said with a sigh, "or rather, I broke up with him." She looked back down and muttered at the table top. "Too little too late, maybe. I'm sure you're wondering why it took me so bloody long."

He _did_ wonder, but wasn't about to say so. Carefully, he touched the back of her hand.

"I was just worried about you, Phyllis. I think lots of folks were. You've got friends who care about you."

"I thought _he_ cared about me," she said, pulling her hand away and flushing. "Maybe he did once, but in the last month or so, he didn't care about anyone himself. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Did...did he threaten you?" _Did he bloody hurt you?_

"Are you asking as a solicitor?"

"Yes, but also as someone who'd like to tie the wank biscuit behind my car and drive full tilt boogie through a field of thistle."

Phyllis let out a bark of laughter and clapped her hands over her mouth. Joe smiled at her, then abruptly narrowed his eyes as the sleeves of her loose sweatshirt slipped down her forearms revealing a ring of thin bruises approximately the size of an extra large hand. Phyllis immediately lowered her hands and pushed her sleeves down.

"He do that?" Joe asked in a clipped voice, nodding at her arms.

"Yeah. He forgets how strong he is."

"Forget a lot, did he?"

"Often enough. Its one of the things I got tired of."

"Anything else you...ah...got tired of?" Phyllis tried to avoid his eyes, but Joe persisted in looking her in the face. "Please, Phyllis…?"

"I chucked him when he lost his temper and threw a full can of Red Bull at me," she said in a whisper. "That was that, for me."

"Did he hit you?"

"Glanced off my collarbone. I've got one hell of a bruise, but nothing else."

"That's plenty," he said grimly.

"Look...it was over before all this blew up. But are they going to believe that? Are they going to believe that I didn't know?"

"We'll have to make sure that they do. There's no proof of collusion-"

"Because there wasn't any bloody collusion!"

"Right. And if they want to sack you on suspicion of collusion, I'll make it very, very painful for them to do so."

This time, Phyllis reached across the table to grab his hands.

* * *

Phyllis could hardly keep still in her chair as the Board members stared at her across the table in the conference room. If Joe hadn't been sitting next to her calmly, watching them with a confident smirk, she'd have bolted from the room. To take her mind off of the back and forth discussion, she admired how he looked in his suit and that his usual, fly-away hair was held down neatly with product. It was the little half-glasses on the end of his nose that really did it for her though. He peered through them when he glanced down at the contract he'd practically memorized prior to the meeting. It made him look incredibly professional.

And a little hot.

She wasn't sure where that was coming from.

"...and so," Joe was concluding, "as there is nothing in the standard employment contract precluding personal relationships between staff..." he paused to wink at John who was there in his capacity as operating manager, "the fact that Ms. Baxter had a personal relationship with one Peter Coyle is simply no grounds for suspension or dismissal. Add into this, the fact that Ms. Baxter had terminated said relationship prior to accusations being levied against Mr. Coyle, as testified by multiple other staff members whose statements you have before you, and was most certainly unaware of any potential impending accusations, as could be ascertained by her reaction on the morning when the meeting was called as witnessed by-"

"We're not suggesting that it is," protested Robert Crawley.

"Then what, exactly, are you suggesting, sir?" Joe demanded. "On what grounds was the suspension made and this meeting called?"

The Board members glanced at each other, wondering who was going to pick up the gauntlet Joe had thrown down. Mr Crawley grimaced and shrugged irritably.

"We have a corporate image," he said, as if that explained everything. When Joe simply raised an eyebrow at him, Crawley glared at him and continued: "We cannot have steroid use appear to be sanctioned in anyway by our staff."

"And you promptly dismissed the individual who violated his contractual agreement concerning enhancement drug use. There is, therefore, no appearance of sanctioning."

"Well...perhaps. But the fact that his...well, his partner continues to be employed by our facility might give the impression that we haven't been...thorough."

Phyllis leaned up against the table and opened her mouth to tell Mr. Crawley, in no uncertain terms, that she was not Peter Coyle's "partner" in any respect. Joe's hand shot out to press against hers, and she sat back down reluctantly.

 _Let him do the talking...that was the deal._

"Are you leveling an accusation against Ms. Baxter of steroid use or of procurement for other's use in the fulfillment of her duties at this facility?" Joe demanded.

"No! Of course we're not," Mr. Crawley sputtered.

"There's been absolutely no indication whatsoever for the three years Ms. Baxter has been employed with us that she uses or promotes the use of steroid enhancement," John Bates added. "That's not an issue."

"Then, it would seem to me, that you have no issue," Joe replied in a pleasant tone, although his eyes snapped. "Ms. Baxter is not in violation of her contract and there are no grounds for dismissal." There was an uneasy rumble around the table. "Would there be anything else?"

"I just want this whole, horrific mess to be over and done with," Mr. Crawley snapped. The Board nodded and mumbled in agreement.

"Then Ms. Baxter will resume her position starting Monday. With due compensation for her time."

Mr. Crawley scowled and looked as if he would like to argue that point, but an older woman, who had watched the proceedings with frustrated eye rolls, must have kicked him under the table.

"Do you want to be sued, Robert?" she hissed at him. "It's clear she has competent counsel. And you keep that in mind when its time to renegotiate her contract too."

"She's been missed," John said as the Board members came to an agreement. "I hope you want to come back, Phyllis."

Turning to Phyllis, Joe raised his eyebrows questioningly. She nodded and took a deep breath.

"I'd like to come back and do my job. I love it. There's nothing better than watching someone find their own strength inside and helping them develop it on the outside. I'd never do anything to jeopardize my being able to do that," she said softly. The Board Members leaned forward to listen, but all she saw was Joe's proud smile.

"That's settled then," Mr. Crawley proclaimed. "Thank you for your time and patience while everything was...er...straightened out."

Joe stood up, shook hands with Mr. Crawley and John Bates, then pulled out Phyllis' chair and offered her a hand. She took it when she realized her legs were shaking with the release of all the tension she'd been carrying.

"Right," Joe said cheerfully. "We're done here."

As soon as the boardroom door shut behind them, Phyllis let out a huge sigh.

"God, I thought for sure they'd try to sack me," she said. "Feels like a bloody rock's been rolled off my shoulders!"

"They might have tried, but they really didn't have a leg to stand on," Joe said, grinning in delight as she suddenly hugged him.

"They would have done if you hadn't stepped in to help."

Joe hugged her back and wished he didn't have to let go. He reluctantly released her when she gently pulled away.

 _More fodder for my happy place when I'm swimming._

"Phyllis, it was my fault you found yourself there in the first place. If I hadn't thought I was so clever...if I'd handled Coyle in a different way-"

"It worked," she said firmly. "He's gone and he may wind up getting his clients from the adjoining cell block. And you didn't let me down, Joe. Thanks for that."

"It was the least I could do. And I'd do anything for you, Phyllis."

"Anything…?" she asked with a slow smirk making its way across her face.

Joe felt a shiver run down his spine. He nodded.

"Then I expect you in spin class Monday morning, Mr. Joseph A. Molesley, Esq. You've got a thirty day triathalon to finish!"

"But I've missed the better part of a week," he protested.

"Then you'll have to work that much harder," she said, reaching out to smooth down his already smooth hair. "But I know you can do it."

She smiled at the gobsmacked look on his face and reached up to remove his glasses. Placing them in his hand, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Feel free to wear these in class anytime."

 **A/N: Well, it was going to be three chapters, but this doesn't feel done. So, one more at lest, likely several more. I can't promise to keep to the one a week scheduled posting, but I'll do my best. Thanks for reading! - nanniships/revfrog**


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